


set my heart on fire immediately

by rayguntomyhead



Series: babylon burning [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Sort Of, blanket warning for unhealthy dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:53:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24833392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayguntomyhead/pseuds/rayguntomyhead
Summary: “You’re that Nyon kid I hear’s been trying to join up, aren’t you?” Springer says, slouches onto the seat next to Hot Rod. “Nice flames, hot stuff.”Or Hot Rod finds the Wreckers
Relationships: Hot Rod/Springer
Series: babylon burning [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767436
Comments: 13
Kudos: 21





	set my heart on fire immediately

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote a whole bunch of hot rod bits in that weird middle-of-the-ocean late night on excedrin writing spree, so have another one

Half covered purple, splashed on the pitted crumbling side of the bar just like it’s been on every surface large enough to play recruitment to a revolution. _Rise Up, Rise Up,_ except funny how rising up means building a tower of bodies to lift you higher, higher and higher like the kill count every day, Praxus and Vos and Kaon and Helex and Nyon, always Nyon.

Took some bearings, spraying it on the Wrecker’s favorite watering hole. Hot Rod traces the dripping paint, smearing purple in the seams of his fingers, dark like dried energon. Drags a finger down the center of his chest, a last salute to the might have beens. 

Rowdy laughter and thumping bass spills out as some drunk sod goes staggering back into the night. No one he’s here to see though, so he scuffs the paint from his chest and turns to catch the door before it swings shut. The best of the best, guns-blazing die-hards in there, and he’s gonna be one of them.

And if they’re stupid enough to turn him down again, well. It’s a hop skip and a jump to Iacon Central, or at least what’s left of it because even if Orion Pax left them to die, Megatron desecrated the ashes. Armies chew up bodies like scrap metal in a frame factory so even if he’s the compact speedster type and not the pound ‘em and ground ‘em frontliner type the Autobots there will take him. They’ll take anyone with a sparkpulse.

Hot Rod will find himself where he needs to be, hungry and hollow, ‘til they point him like a gun and pull the trigger.

Inside the bar, the sound system growls out a gravel rock rock anthem to the night, bass loud enough to get lost in. Hot Rod slouches on bar stool, slurps obnoxiously at the cheap excuse for engex that had bought him that seat instead of an unceremonious boot out of the door once the bouncer realized the little street rat was trolling for something other than a drink. 

Not that he couldn’t have charmed his way out of that with a well-timed flutter of his spoiler and innocent wide-opticked look, but that’s so much _work_. Not like he can give Hot Rod what he’s really looking for tonight. 

The Wreckers keep mostly to their own table, but with only one bartender they still have to come up to get their drinks. Right like clockwork comes the biggest one, optics still edged in the bright of battle light, green armor scuffed and scorched. Barely back from their last job, looking to blow off steam and Hot Rod slurps a little louder, leans forward back arched until his spoiler catches the light. 

There. Springer casually changes course, ambles to the sticky patch of bar Hot Rod’s claimed. 

“You’re that Nyon kid I hear’s been trying to join up, aren’t you?” Springer says and drops himself onto the seat next to Hot Rod, ignores the alarming creak. “Nice flames, hot stuff.”

He slings an arm over Hot Rod’s shoulder, drapes himself warm and overfamiliar all against Hot Rod’s side, like the world’ll give him whatever he wants to take and this is easy, Hot Rod knows this.

“‘M not a ki-id,” he says, drags the word out pouty and slumps, lets his legs splay just far enough that Springer can imagine getting his hips between them and forcing them wider. He glances down and just a bit to the side, pushes his lip out a little more.

“Oh, _aren’t_ you,” Springer says, and his optics pulse hot, dropping like clockwork to the slim notch of Hod Rod’s waist, the curve of his thighs. His arm hooks a little tighter around Hot Rod’s shoulder, one digit rubbing along the curve of his neck as he leans in just that little bit more, vents slowly heating and _jackpot,_ he _knew_ it. Want flares heavy and crushing in Springer’s field,thrilling to Hot Rod’s helm like the good engex.

“Want me to prove it to you, big guy?” Hot Rod dances his digits across the broad, pitted slab of Springer’s thigh. “I’ve been told I’m _very_ convincing.”

Springer laughs, dark and rusty. “You’ll have to be, to get Kup to take you on. Don’t know what your angle is kid, but good luck. Pretty frame like yours can be put to better use than frontline cannon fodder.”

Hot Rod imagines all the smug underclocked circuitry that makes up Springer’s processor slowly glowing hot, bursting into flames, the way his vocalizer would whistle and shriek as it melted, and Hot Rod smiles pretty and cocks his head just so.

“Maybe you should check me over then,” he says, molding his body like plasticine even closer against Springer’s, “just to see if there’s any modifications you’d recommend. Then you can recommend _me,_ ” and easy as a jack in a port, Springer’s optics darken and he’s pulling Hot Rod onto his lap, big hands around his waist. There’s still time to stop this, time to play it off with a laugh, but Hot Rod’s _committed,_ he’s on this like acid on rain. Let them try to say no once they sees his flames.

“Oh, I’ll make sure you get what you need,” Springer says, and Hot Rod flutters his spoiler to the beat of the blaring music. Getting in good with the old crew, soon to be _his_ crew, _Wreckers wreck_ because the ends justify means and the ends mean justice and he pushes up to meet Springer’s mouth, fucks his glossa in hot and wet and dirty, and it’s good like only terrible things are. 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are <3


End file.
